


Major Tom's A Junkie

by mr_reblogbutton



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Gen, Inspired by a tumblr thing, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:54:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_reblogbutton/pseuds/mr_reblogbutton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy hesitates but then straightens. He leaves the impression of someone who will have great character someday.<br/> “My name is Doug and I'm going to take my mommy to the moon.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Major Tom's A Junkie

**Author's Note:**

> The title is because I was listening to David Bowie and Ashes to Ashes came on. Also Space Oddity is my jam.

Douglas Eiffel, five years old, hands his mother a crayon drawing. She laughs as he clambers up onto her lap, small fists filled with colourful Crayolas.

“What’s this one? Another space man? Who’s their friend?”

The young boy drops his crayons and jabs the paper with his index finger.

“That’s me.” He says with determination, “And that’s you.” He points to the other person.

“Where are we going?” His mother asks. She already has a sneaking suspicion.

“To the moon!” He turns around to show off his wide smile. Unbridled joy always filled his eyes. “I decided to take you to the moon.”

\-------

It’s the first day of grade one and the teacher sits down in front of her class. “Okay! Who wants to introduce themselves first? Tell me your name and one thing you want to do.”

Twenty hands shoot up. The teacher smiles, she spies a boy at the back with scruffy hair. A too big t-shirt hangs off his shoulders and he doesn't seem to realise that a question has been asked. His tongue is stuck between his teeth in determination as he messily scribbles a drawing on his desk. She picks on him of course.

The boy is nudged by a girl sitting next to him and he starts suddenly. He falls from his chair and the class laughs. Nervously the boy stands up and stares at her uncertainly.

“Can you tell me your name and something you want to do? You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.”

The boy hesitates but then straightens. He leaves the impression of someone who will have great character someday. “My name is Doug and I’m going to take my mommy to the moon.”

He smiles at the last part and she can’t help but laugh at his gappy smile where he is already missing a front tooth.

\---

It’s his first day of middle school. Everything sucks. He was mocked three times already for his love of Janice Joplin and every teacher gave him the look of “I know you’re going to fail this class”. He pulls out his lunch from his bag and walks to the washroom. He sits down in the stall furthest from the one with the sobbing sounds coming from inside. On the wall to his right is the messy writing of someone who had been there before him.

‘I want to die.’ It said. He made a face at the negative message.

‘I just want to go to the moon.’ He wrote under it.

\---

He sat in a hospital. He hated doctors. He was always being asked questions. Sometimes about himself, sometimes not. Lately it was about his mother. Now he was next to his mother and he stroked her hand with his thumb, something that she had done to comfort him after anxiety attacks and break downs. She had been gone for a while but he had disconnected the heart monitors so the nurses wouldn't come shoving him away. She hadn't wanted to be brought back, so he let her go on her own terms.

Should he call a nurse?

Probably.

Was he going to?

Of course not.

He didn't know where his father was but he hadn't even shown up. He on the other hand had missed his high school graduation for this.  His sight began to blur and tears fell onto his jeans. He tried to wipe them away but they kept coming. He sniffled.

“Aw jeez ma', you couldn't wait for the moon could you?”

\---

He stared out the window of the station at the star. He had finished the first of what was to be many logs. He pulled out a picture of his mother and taped it to the glass, next to it an old, crumpled, crayon drawing. He grinned.

“It’s not the moon mom, I know. I didn't limit myself to that because you always wanted me to go further.”

 


End file.
